


彼岸花 - notes from a man on the brink of despair

by dwyndling



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Missing Scene, Nobodies (Kingdom Hearts) - Freeform, Set during Kingdom Hearts II, mostly......canon compliant, some confusion between 'hate' and 'love'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: There is a flower the blooms in summer, known as the red spider lily, or 'corpse flower'. Some legends say that after parting from someone you will never meet again, they will be found blooming along your path.
Relationships: Axel & Saïx (Kingdom Hearts), Axel/Saïx (Kingdom Hearts), Isa & Lea (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	彼岸花 - notes from a man on the brink of despair

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I’m never not thinking about the fact that when Axel goes out with a bang, he thought he wasn’t coming back. 
> 
> //CW- there is a scene where a character overuses potions and ethers to achieve a desired effect, so if the allusion to a substance abuse-esque situation is a concern, please be advised.

When the claymore enters his side, he doesn’t feel anything. 

Such is the fate of a heartless Nobody, you might say, if you had strong feelings about the subject. But by that point, not only was it a whispered rumor that perhaps certain Nobodies weren’t as heartless as previously assumed, it was more akin to an open secret that everyone had guessed at but didn’t dare speak of. 

Or at least, that was how it seemed to Axel.

Ah right, the claymore.

Saïx twists the weapon in his hold, and he hears himself cry out as if from far away, the threads tying together his inhuman body being forcibly ripped apart from where they belonged. For a chest that is supposedly hollow, it sure does ache when it’s being torn apart.

“That was careless, _Axel.”_ The voice he knows so well is twisted with rage, a parody of its former self. Saïx seems the most inhuman that he has ever been, as his face creases into an unnatural smile, lit from within and without by the Berserker glow. 

_Is...is this..._

“But unlike you, I make sure the job is finished.” The weapon twists again, and Axel can’t even breathe let alone make a sound. This is beyond a doubt the worst pain he’s ever experienced, bar none. 

Losing his heart initially has now slipped to second on the list. That hurt nowhere near as bad. That was the pain of terror, of the unknown, of sharp and tangy regret. That was a child’s pain, purer, but quickly dulled into a quiet ache once the heart had truly left and the body had reformed.

This....this is much, much worse.

Finally, the weapon exits Axel’s body, and he finds himself slumped over onto his knees, breathing heavily. Kairi is...crying out somewhere in...front of him, but his...mind is moving...too slowly to...parse...the words...

The dull smack he feels must be that of his face hitting the floor. Saïx is laughing behind him, saying something to the feisty princess. 

Laughing. _Laughing._

 _Why is_ this _the first time in years that you’re satisfied enough to cackle like that?_

_...yeah. I know why. It’s my fault too, huh. If it hadn’t been for Roxas, perhaps our relationship wouldn’t have gotten so bad. We’d already drifted apart...but bitterness wouldn’t have eaten you alive in this way._

_I once thought we would face the end together, Isa. I see now that it was a child’s thought._

With strength he didn’t know he’d had a few moments ago, Axel finds himself pushing upwards onto his elbows, grimly trying to raise his chin. “It’s....hngh-“

Saïx’s boot meets the top of his head, and the sickening crack that peels out when his jaw meets the floor again probably spells trouble for his dental future. “Going somewhere, traitor?” The words are barely more than a hiss, reverberating with a low murmur of something attempting to be hatred.

Has he really forgotten? Just like that? Axel snorts internally, and tries to remember to breathe beneath the pressure of Saïx still forcing his face to the ground.

They’d only joined the Organization to weasel answers out of Xemnas. And now Saïx wants to accuse _him_ of betraying the Organization’s higher purpose? It’s laughable really.

“Let him go!” The fact that Kairi is apparently ready and willing to campaign for his survival floats across his mental periphery gracelessly, something that makes sense but at the same time doesn’t at all. “He’s no threat to you anymore!”

_Ouch._

Seriously, ouch. Kick a guy while he’s down, will ya? He can’t decide if the boot still pressing into his skull, the jagged rip going through most of his torso, or the words hurt most of all.

Heh, at least Nobodies don’t bleed. It’d probably be a lot worse for the princess if she had to watch him suffocate in a puddle of his own blood. 

_Probably be a lot worse for me too, now that I think about it._

The conversation continues, Kairi’s impassioned voice and Saïx’s growl mingling together in a cacophony of senseless noise. Axel stares at the grey tile listlessly. He barely has the energy to think, let alone move or speak.

Why bother, right?

_Why bother indeed._

The answer is simple.

_Roxas’s heart is still out there somewhere. I have to believe that. At the very least, his soul must still linger wherever Sora goes._

_Sora...Sora......._

A plan begins to form, ideas crackling through his mind like an old and sputtering lightbulb. It’s not a good plan by any means, and likely not one he’ll survive…

But hey. Anything’s better than twitching loosely on the ground beneath the heel of your...of someone...of someone you…

_Saïx probably can’t win against Sora. Not with the way the kid’s dealt with everyone so far. I guess then this must be...our final goodbye._

“‘Ey.” He manages to speak around the floor without moving his jaw too much. “S’rude to tal’ abou’ so’non’ ‘hen they’re ‘ight ‘ere…”

Saïx responds by simply shoving his foot down harder, to the point where it feels like it’s probably going to leave an impression on the back of his skull. 

Ah. Time for evasive maneuvers then.

Mustering whatever strength remains coiled along his spine, regardless of the fact it’s probably going to exacerbate his injury in a none-too-pleasant way, Axel’s left hand jerks upwards behind his head, settling in a tight grip on Saïx’s ankle. 

_Burn, bitch._

Speed is of the essence here, even as Saïx roars in pain as flames lick up his leg and the side of his coat. In the scant moment of advantage he retains, Axel shoves as hard as he can to his right, finally slipping gracelessly out of the diviner’s reach. 

Right into the wall as it were, but that’s fine. It’s not as though he has any breath left to steal away from the impact after all. 

Three seconds, according to his intuition, before Saïx recovers and separates the _rest_ of his torso from itself. It’s hard to tell which is annoying the normally impassive Number VII more, the flames he’s attempting to stamp out or the verbal barrage he’s receiving from their baby-faced hostage princess.

Heh. Even _he_ hadn’t heard that word before.

It’s all he can do to rise to his elbows; anymore strain on his abdomen could spell disaster in this state. What greets his eyes is nothing beyond Saïx’s amber stare, a burning and overflowing rage that’s centered around and directed now solely at _him._

In that moment, it becomes almost too much to remember to gasp for breath, with the force of that unbearable intensity pointed exclusively at the husk that is him.

The echo of Saïx’s approaching footfall snaps him back into reality, and Axel musters a toothy grin, one ragged around the edges and probably more pathetic than it is cocky. “Sorry, _sir._ I was just on my way out.”

True to his words, the thrust of the claymore meets only the shadowy thorns and vines in the spot where Axel was not a second before. Kairi whoops. 

_I guess this is really it then._

_I..._

_Goodbye, Isa._

~~_I’m sorry._ ~~

* * *

The corridor deposits him gracelessly in the emptiness of the In-Between.

Axel huffs a ragged breath, and drops the armful of things he’d retrieved from his old quarters. It’d been a risk to simply corridor somewhere else in the castle instead of perhaps, anywhere the hell else, but if he was going to carry out his idea, there were things that would become necessary. 

First, the six or so potions that had been thankfully in a drawer somewhere. He doesn’t bother to check the expiry date, considering that finding anything better isn’t currently an option.

After guzzling three of them, the wound in his side starts to feel remarkably better, more like a broken rib instead of a chunk of his torso missing. After the second three potions it merely tingles in agony instead of screaming, which, while still unpleasant, is a marked improvement. It still hurts to move, but at least he can think clearly again.

Well. As clearly as possible, considering he’s still planning to go through with this idea.

Listlessly, Axel thumbs off the cap of the first of four hi-ethers, and takes a gulp. Magic sizzles in his veins as the substance hits the back of his throat, the taste vaguely of sugar and something else entirely indescribable. 

Well. Here he is. Needs must when the devil drives, eh?

Besides. It’s not as if there’s any big downsides. There’s no way that Xemnas won’t have a welcoming party prepared for Sora and his cronies, but the extent of it is still left to be wondered at. 

Some of the higher ranked Nobodies, those who’s commanders had passed into true nothingness, are wandering the worlds at will, now doing nothing more than tirelessly pursuing the scent of hearts. Others yet linger, in their homeworld of nothingness, at Xemnas’s beck and call. 

Most of all there are the Dusks, who flood the nether regions of the castle like ants.

Distantly, he wonders if there are any Assassins left who would heed him. Probably not, not when Xemnas has had enough time to exert his influence over them since Axel’s standing within the group had become shaky at best.

_Just me then. As expected._

The second and third hi-ethers go down just as easily, and by the fourth, his entire body is tingling so harshly that it’s easy to forget about the sharp pin pricks that cover his entire right side. It’s enough of an adrenaline spike that he’s finally able to rise to his feet, swaying slightly but gripping to vertical status with white knuckles. 

The empty bottles lie in a cluster at his feet, quickly fading into nothingness as they do once their magical contents have been drained. Axel takes one wavering step forward, and then another, listening hard for any commotion or otherwise Duck, Dog, and Boy noises.

They should’ve easily been able to reach the entrance he’d left before in the Data-Twilight Town. If all of Riku’s cautious hints and gentle nudges had gone to plan, they should’ve been able to access it in the first place just fine. It would leave them somewhere in this general area, or at least, it would be provided his hazy estimations had been right. 

Things were very relative, here in the realm of In-Between. It wasn’t a sensical place, which frankly, was to his interests at the moment. He could do with a bit of prods and adjustments to reality, for this to work. 

How ironic, or perhaps it was to be expected when he wasn’t even real himself. 

A youthful shout echoes out from far away, and the fervor of combat emanates like something tangible his senses can feel. His chakrams fly into his hands on instinct, but his feet stay still for the moment. 

There’s no turning back from what comes next. No taking it back later, no second chances. He has to make it count while he has the opportunity. Every act of betrayal, every doubting thought, ever tug in his hollow chest to choose something different for once- 

It all culminates here.

Axel exhales.

And then he runs.

* * *

The ensuing quiet of his room is almost too much to bear, after the moments of chaos that were the cell block.

Saïx stares at the ceiling above his bed, and firmly ignores the lingering pain all along his right side. It’s nothing that healing magic can’t take care of to a certain extent, but the skin irritation unfortunately remains. 

Fire isn’t a type of magic that he’s particularly unresistant to, but perhaps it was the sudden shock of it that threw him off. Perhaps it was the placement. Perhaps it was the caster.

Perhaps, he had stopped thinking altogether, and the sudden shock to his physical form had halted him in his tracks.

But what was he doing, if not thinking? With a lack of ‘feeling’, what is left to drive the instinctual forces of a once-human mind? If he is not guided by his rational thoughts, unhampered by emotion as they are, then what is it that pushes him ever onwards?

It is utterly nonsensical, that the memories of emotion could be so strong as to overpower him to such an extent. 

Saïx grimaces, unrelated to the sting of the remaining burn marks covering his leg. Perhaps it was the Berserker rage, a power so twisted and perverted that it could hardly be called an ‘emotion’ any longer. 

Or at least, that was how the Superior has described it.

The ‘rage’ that constantly simmers beneath the surface of his skin is perhaps his most loyal companion. It is ever a breath away, something eternally waiting to be called upon and diffused, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t really know what ‘it’ is. Perhaps it is he who takes on the cyclical anger that the moon above witnesses, or perhaps the power is simply a gift from Kingdom Hearts, something which begs no mortal understanding.

Axel certainly never had many thoughts to share on what exactly it was that comprised Saïx’s newfound ability. After the assassin’s first time witnessing it, some years ago, they hadn’t spoken for a week. Whether it was a direct reaction of Axel’s to his once-friend’s new power, or a coincidence originating in something entirely unrelated, he doesn’t know.

He’d endeavored to use it as little as possible after that. Not because of Axel’s presumed discomfort with the sight, but because the situation had forced him to confront his lack of control in that state. He was conscious throughout, but it was as though he was watching his own actions from underneath the water’s surface. A hazy reverie, a true lapse of executive thought.

If their plan was to succeed, it would require the utmost control and delicacy on his part. Axel had more freedom, even as the only one who would necessarily have to dirty his hands with the situation, but it was Saïx’s burden to play the delicate game of words and actions. Of the two, it was obvious to the both of them he was the better suited for that role.

How ironic then, that the very ability gifted to his empty body was one which necessitated an utter loss of composure and control.

A beast, unhinged and inhuman. A beast’s rage. 

_"A beast, on Lord Xemnas’ black leather leash."_

Axel’s voice floats through his head with the same mirthful cadence as ever, the ever present smirk playing over his lips. In his mind, the assassin is leaning against his desk, inserting himself into Saïx’s workspace so slyly he couldn’t even remember when the other man had come in in the first place.

_Green eyes, that simmer with mischief. Deft fingers that curl around his wrist, causing him to lose the grip on his pen, a song and dance of purposeful annoyance and unflinching indifference._

_Axel, suddenly all hard edges and hissed condemnation, shoving him up against the wall in search of answers he would not receive._

_Axel, some years younger, curled up around him and trying to make his sobs quieter. He was often plagued by nightmares in those days, of what or why he never volunteered, and Saïx hadn’t quite known how to ask, or known if he wanted to at all._

_Axel, years even younger than that, seated next to him on the ground, content to lean into the arm that Saïx had around him. It had been a...bad day. They had not spoken a word, but simply being alone together had been a luxury._

_Lea-_

Gritting his teeth, Saïx abruptly sits up, allowing his heels to click to the floor with severity. Someone, at the very least a gaggle of Dusks, should've been dispatched to deal with their traitorous operative.

It’s enough to make the anger still simmering beneath his skin to rise to a fever pitch, the facts of the matter that Axel was willing to go so far for a mentee he’d barely known a year. That he could throw away a decade a work, a decade of _them,_ for something so insignificant.

Belatedly, he realises his hands have curled into fists, so tightly wound it feels as though something might snap. Silently, he forces them back into rest. 

_You’ve deluded yourself into thinking you’d discovered something precious. I expected better of you, than to be fooled by something so obviously worthless._

They’re fundamentally empty thoughts, motivated by nothing more than trying not to think about the broken smile that Axel had pasted on right before he’d vanished from under his grip.

_I…_

_I wanted to crush him back there. I’ll wring his neck if he shows his face here again._

_Rage...that must be the throbbing in my chest. The memory of rage. The remembrance of anger, of disgust, of...of…_

_I can’t remember what the third thing is called. The memories must be foggy and ill-defined enough that my mind doesn’t remember how to pretend at it._

_I want his neck between my hands. I want him to look up at me and remember what it was that drove us together in the first place._

_How...how could the past mean nothing to you?!_

_...how can I want for something so badly without-_

Saïx pushes himself to his feet abruptly, and stalks out of his quarters. He’ll return to work, injuries be damned.

The hallways are quiet, as they usually are, but this time the silence is almost deafening. So much of their personnel have been destroyed, or, in Axel’s case…

Saïx’s hands clench into fists again as he paces forward, and this time he is too absorbed to care. The keyblade hero will be intent on reaching them, now that they hold the princess. Security must be reinforced, valuable assets must be protected, they must-

“Number VII.”

Saïx very much does _not_ jerk in surprise, and instead simply takes a moment before calmly looking up to where the Superior is standing, a few feet in front of him. “Sir?”

It’s far from uncommon for Xemnas to appear before him without a moment's notice, and it’s an occurrence that has very much shaped his daily habits and proclivities. There is the constant appraisal in the back of his mind, of what he’s doing, what it looks like he’s doing, and what he would say if asked what he were doing.

Already, his mind begins to formulate the statement, regardless of what Xemnas is actually here to talk to him about.

_I was just returning to overseeing the castle’s security after resting my injuries. If I might inquire about the detail sent after Number-_

“I’ve received word that Number VIII has been eliminated.”

Silence dispassionately echoes through the room.

Saïx blinks. And blinks again. The words do not quite register.

Xemnas doesn’t seem to mind, carrying on in the same passionless voice without any input from the other. “He destroyed himself, as a means of allowing the hero of the Keyblade within the confines of this world. We will adjourn to Where Nothing Gathers in order to discuss what will ensue.”

Saïx finds his voice suddenly, somewhere between the wave of thoughts rushing too fast for him to comprehend. “...sir.” He gives a perfunctory half-bow, mostly on instinct as the world bends around him like slowly moving water.

Taking a step closer, the Superior places a firm hand on his shoulder, even as Saïx’s head remains bowed. “See to it that the others are informed.”

Within the next instant he is gone, only little swirls of darkness ebbing away in his place. The phantom touch of his hand, heavy on the curve of his shoulder remains.

In the ensuing quiet, Saïx does not crumple to his knees. He does not cry out, either in loss or in anger. His eyes do not water, and there is no aching, for his chest is hollow.

Then why...why does the world still bleed red around the edges of his vision?

* * *

Fading into ashes was not like being on fire. It was something else, a different kind of pain, one he can barely remember the feel of, already so far gone was he.

But then again, he can barely remember the feel of anything right now.

Seeing Roxas again had been reward enough for the stunt he’d pulled. As he’d faded away with a soft smile even brighter than the light surrounding him, it’d been enough to bring Axel to tears.

_Best friends. A sacrifice worth making. A price I was willing to pay. For Roxas. For Sora. For Kairi. For Riku. For Naminé._

_For...me._

He lingers, in the empty sunset glow. It’s impossible to stay much longer, even as he can feel the edges of his awareness growing soft and fuzzy as it, and thusly he, dissembles.

More tears continue to fall, rebelling against the magic of the charms. His face should feel wet, dripping with everything that bears no words, but nothing really ‘feels’ in this place. Is this even anything more than a dream?

His eyes close on instinct, as the warmth envelopes him further. Strange...death was always described as cold.

_Sleep...death. I guess I’ll find out soon how different they really are._

He’s barely together anymore, all jumbled together, the thoughts and feelings at the forefront of his being, burning, _burning,_ with something greater than he can comprehend. He is-was-made of fire, a spark burning all too brightly into the night before suddenly flickering out.

_I did...all I could think to do, even if it was all too little too late._

_Roxas...the three of us were-_

_…?_

_The two of us reminded me what it all meant. I’ll never get the opportunity to thank you for that._

_But Sora will keep you safe. As long as he’s safe, your heart is safe with his. Perhaps it’s a small comfort, but it does make me feel better._

Axel’s eyes slip open, one last time. The lights and colors around him are beginning to shift, merging and swirling into one, and then fading away to nothing at all. 

_Isa…_

_No. It’s too much. I don’t have time._

Saïx flickers into his mind, a face he knows better than his own. 

_It’s weird. It feels wrong to expect anything more, and yet…_

_I wish the last time I saw you, you hadn’t been looking at me like you wanted me dead. It’s a trite little thing and yet…_

_I would’ve liked to see you smile, one last time. Even just to remember what it looked like._

_...I’ll haunt you, Isa._

Simply because in a few moments he won’t be able to again, Axel smiles.

* * *

After the final blow falls, he can barely breathe, let alone think.

Saïx staggers backwards, and the claymore falls from his hand with a heavy _thud._ It barely registers on the periphery of his senses; so overpowering is the sensation of your very being slowly beginning to unravel.

It matters not who is there to see it, who is there to witness his shameful crumbling into oblivion. He turns away as if guided by instinct alone, turning his face up to where the heart-moon glimmers teasingly in the black sky above. 

“Why...Kingdom Hearts…” The rasping echo of his own voice is barely coherent in his own ears. 

_Was it like this for Axel? Did he feel this...this grief that does not come from within?_

The assassin flickers into his mind once again, as he has been intermittently for the past however many weeks. In his head, Axel smirks, cocking a hip lazily to one side, saying something he’s too overwhelmed to envision. 

_He’s probably just running his mouth again. Tch. Lea never could learn when to shut up._

The moon twinkles merrily down on him.

Without a moment left for hesitation or remorse, the strings that tie him together and make up the being known as ‘Saïx’ slip apart and into nothing. His body has met an end, and with it his mind. 

Faintly, Axel’s voice meets his ears, and he’s already too far gone to simply decry it as the hallucinations of a man on the brink of death. It’s impossible to make out the words, but he unconsciously leans into the sound.

“Where...is my…”

A focal point. A sun to orbit. A center of gravity with which to exist on a tethered plane at all.

A smile, far too self-assured and cocky to be pleasing to the eye. It makes him want to lean forward and wipe it off the other’s face, however necessary.

“...heart.”

* * *

The assorted bodies of the former Organization XIII make a pretty picture, spread out on the floor as they are.

Xehanort looks over them blandly. He has the names and identities to attach to each one, information acquired in various ways and from various sources, and now the choice sits before him.

From beside him, Xigbar stands in smug silence. Then again, what kind of silence other than smug does that man have? It hardly matters, what he thinks he knows or why he chooses to perpetuate such a demeanor. Nothing will matter, once his own future plans are fulfilled.

Now...the choice.

There are the guardsmen...but they lack the strategic finesse for what Xehanort requires at this moment. The two scientists are not completely inviable options, but their necessity is lowered in the light of their already achieved accomplishments. 

Well. Who is he to jest? The decision is obvious.

Xemnas’ former adjutant is both capable and ruthless, the perfect combination for the task they desire of him. The man’s face is turned away from him, hair spilling onto the floor like a faux pool of water.

His co-conspirator is beside him, a little ways away and draped over the hard floor like a particularly lanky rag doll. A traitor to their cause, and a blithering idiot to boot. What had his future self been thinking, allowing such treachery to run rampant, sowing fissures within the collective whole?

Xehanort’s lip curls at the thought. Perhaps the memory loss had addled Xemnas’ mind to some extent. It was a hypothesis that bore further investigation, but first-

Xigbar is already making his way through the assembled bodies, and heaves the former diviner into his arms with a strength that belies his wiry stature. “Where to next, junior?”

Turning away, the young man’s mouth curves into what could generously be called a smile. 

“We will complete the extraction once we arrive. He won’t need that frail heart for what comes next.”

Two pairs of footsteps ring out, disappearing into a corridor. The room is left empty and silent, the only sound that of faint breathing. 

Lea’s eyelids flutter, nerves awakening with a slow rise...and then all at once. There is the softest touch of a sunrise, a catalyst sewn deep into the simple motion of an inhale.

A heart thumps solidly in his chest.

  
  



End file.
